


flushed

by emblems



Series: this dance of ours [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but it's fluffy as fuck, i'm sorry they don't even kiss in this, the beginnings of ust at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:44:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4696100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblems/pseuds/emblems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Chrom has always been warm, bursting with energy and light, and sometimes she feels as though she can barely look at him head-on. Now, though, she wants to soak it all in, to let him wash over her. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>The desire rolls through her like the sun beats down on the skin.</i>
</p><p>[ or: the beginnings of sexual frustration. alternatively: post-chapter-11-engagement fluff. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	flushed

**Author's Note:**

> immediately post-plegia war. written as a prequel to "fit to burst," and this entire series is basically meant to fulfill my need for ust-riddled chrobins. have fun, kids.

She’s engaged.

She’s to be married to Chrom.

They’re _engaged_. 

Her heart doesn’t stop pounding against her chest for the rest of the night. She worries that spending time in his immediate company will distract her; they’re to be overseeing the army’s regrouping effort for the rest of the night. Together. Surely they’ll give something away.

To her later relief, it proves to be the opposite: inventory, checking in with each unit’s squad leader, and making arrangements for those who were lost take up any free space her mind might have had and then some. She lets herself focus, lets tactics and strategy and efficiency rule once more.

Chrom seems to be of the same mind, thankfully: his thoughts are on the people of Ylisse. Just as his sister would have wanted.

If, perhaps, they stand a little closer to each other, allow their hands to brush a little more—well, no one says a word. 

The sun is setting and they’re talking to Frederick about the state of rations, and that’s when Gaius and Vaike seek them out, demanding their presence at the Shepherds’ celebration, since it “wouldn’t be the same without them,” and somehow even Frederick even gets conned into it, and that’s how she and Chrom end up shoulder-to-shoulder at the fire, ale in hand and perhaps a little breathless and more than a little warm.

They manage to slip away at some point, between Vaike’s singing and Gregor’s tall tales. Without speaking, they end up not in the main tent, but in hers. He sprawls out on her cot, staring up at where the sky would be while she perches at the end of the bed. They talk and they talk, about what’s left to do, about what’s to be done when they reach Ylisse, about the way Stahl keeps looking at Cordelia. 

It’s like their usual talks, really, except for a few key differences.

She runs her hand through his hair because now she can. She traces the brand with her fingertips because now she can. She studies every detail of him, and she’d already done that, but now she can do it openly. 

Chrom has always been warm, bursting with energy and light, and sometimes she feels as though she can barely look at him head-on. Now, though, she wants to soak it all in, to let him wash over her. 

The desire rolls through her like the sun beats down on the skin.

He’s flush with victory, his cheeks pink from the sun and exertion and joy and—well, victory, and all that it entails.

It’s heady. 

She’s not sure when they fell to silence, but suddenly she knows how to fill it.

“I love you,” she whispers, testing the words on her tongue.

He slowly opens his eyes, and he takes a moment to focus on her. Every motion is deliberate, every minute shift of his gaze heavy with intention.

He sits up, and one of his gloved hands reaches up to cup her cheek. 

“I love you,” he responds. She sighs, pressing into his touch and covering his hand with hers. It’s a marvel she can feel his warmth, even through both of their gloves. 

They sit like that for some time, a comfortable haze settling over her senses. 

But Chrom calls her back. “You should rest,” he says. His thumb brushes over her cheekbone. 

She hums, a sound from the back of her throat. “We just got engaged and you’re putting me to bed,” she says, cracking an eye open and smirking.

He clears his throat, and somehow his face becomes even pinker. She rethinks her phrasing and the warmth in her belly only grows, spreading to her own cheeks. “Not like that,” she says, averting her gaze.

“I know,” he says. “And it’s probably best we don’t—for now, I mean. Given everything. The situation right now is still—how’d you put it?—tenuous.”

She nods, looking down at her lap. “You’re right.”

“Don’t think it’s because I don’t want to—”

“Chrom,” she says, eying him. “You’re talking to the tactician. I know why not.”

He draws back whatever words were hovering on his tongue and smiles sheepishly. “Of course.”

He begins to rise, but she reaches out to take his wrist. “Wait,” she says, and she’s surprising even herself now. He turns to look at her, his brows arched and something like hope in his eyes. She licks her lips, swallows. "I know we just said—” She stops, then starts again. No fuss. “Stay with me tonight?”

Red is a good color on him, she decides, looking at his flushed face. “You wouldn’t be uncomfortable?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “As long as you’re not.”

He settles down next to her again. She puts her head on his shoulder. “No,” he says, easing into her. "In fact, I’m exhausted as well.” He chuckles. “I don’t think I’d be able to do anything even if the situation was in our favor.” 

She snorts. “And here I was worried we’d be like wyverns in heat.”

He laughs. “I had the same thought.”

He links his hand with hers, twining their fingers together. “Bed, then?”

“Mhmm.”

It’s most definitely too warm to be sleeping next to someone that night, but somehow it doesn’t matter. They talk and talk for longer still, until they fall asleep with legs tangled and hearts beating in time. 

**Author's Note:**

> i've got two one-shots left for this series, probably. one of them is basically done. eventually i'll write something that will actually resolve the ust. probably. or maybe i'll just make you all suffer like these two. who knows??


End file.
